Requiem for a Soldier
Part V: Agnus Dei
Author: Ai-ko
E-mail: tennyo@attbi.com
Disclaimer: Sailormoon does not belong to me.


Some poor souls will never find Love.

These unfortunate creatures, wretched as they made themselves out to 
be, missed something wonderful and terrible: consummation, no doubt, 
but the lesser things too, a touch, a breath on the neck, a pleasant 
laugh.

But were they so unblessed?  Was it worth it to love?  For all the 
orators that spoke of it, poets that wrote of it, dreamers that dreamed 
of it, and the lovers that loved it, these people who never liked to 
admit the truth: that Love was just as ugly and destructive as hate 
(more-so in many ways, since people were more inclined to trust it).  
Love could steal.  Love could hurt.  Love could kill.

And the Lords of Hell knew this and used it to their advantage.  They 
used passion and devotion in ways incomprehensible to ordinary 
conception, if only because people deliberately withdrew from such 
thoughts, leaving those caught among this deadly web to suffer alone.  
Those who succumbed were lost for forever.

Now as time moment of truth approached, the pain returned full force, 
and the hate, the anger and the regret once thought to be banished hung 
heavily upon one poor soul who had never meant it to go this far. 
Pure memories, tainted with Love, verily haunted the psyche.  Love had 
destroyed this wretch, this pure Woman.

Once a Woman cried for It.

Once a Woman sold Her Soul for It.

Once a Woman became a Wraith for It.

And She swore She would not be the last.

	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*

Minako turned sheet-white as Usagi fell to the ground for the second 
time that day.  Trembling with fear, she bent down, acting entirely on 
instinct as she checked for a pulse.

There was none.  With a terrified cry, she began administering CPR, 
screaming between breaths for someone to call emergency.

Thankfully, some blessed soul did hear her cries for help and pulled 
out his cell, taking over the duty of attempting to resuscitate the 
small girl.

"About a block from the Crown Arcade, between 4th and M street . . . 
she's been on antibiotics . . . someone's doing CPR . . . oh, God, 
please hurry, she's my best friend!"  Minako started to weep, shutting 
off the phone.

"Usagi-chan!" Minako screamed at the lifeless form.  "If you don't wake 
up right now I'll never forgive you!  And neither will Ami-chan or Rei-
chan or Mako-chan, and you'll never see your family or become Mamoru-
san's bride or have a daughter!  WAKE UP THIS INSTANT!"

With a fierce gasp, Usagi's eyes widened, her blue face slowly 
retreating.  Slipping back into unconsciousness, Minako was infinitely 
relieved to realize that at very least the girl was breathing.

And still breathing even as the emergency unit drove up, shallow as it 
was.  As the ambulance zoomed off, Usagi in tow, a disconsolate Minako 
stumbled back to the Crown Arcade, where she gave the grim news to her 
fellow senshi.

	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*

In times of despair, when there is nothing left to hold onto, there is 
something in the human condition that makes even the most alien 
factions feel as if they were one.

That night Haruka had never felt so loved as she dismally walked into 
the Juuban District Hospital.  Hugs and tears came at her from every 
angle.  Ami clutched her as she cried; Makoto whispered into her 
shoulder all the things they feared.  Even a transformed Minako, cool 
leader rather than dim-witted blonde, offered a stiff hug and watery 
smile.

The girls sat away from the other friends and family that had gathered 
around.  Offhand she recognized Kenji giving her the evil eye, not 
realizing who Haruka was, Usagi's mother and brother, and the little 
redhead with her nerdy boyfriend--Naru and Umino, right?--imparting odd 
looks.  From there, only Rei kept distant, sitting pertly in an orange 
plastic chair, staring into space. Next to her was an empty seat; this 
is the seat in which Haruka sat.

"Are you all right?" Haruka whispered into Rei's ear.  Rei nodded but 
said nothing.

"Leave her be," Minako ordered quietly.  "We all have to deal with this 
in our own way."

Rei gave Minako an oddly grateful look as Haruka smiled at the Venusian 
senshi's sudden wisdom.

"So . . . I rushed here as soon as I heard," Haruka said softly.  "How 
long have you been here?"

"Ten hours," was Makoto's lifeless reply.

"I'm not leaving until she walks out of here herself," Rei said 
obstinately.

Tears welled in Haruka's eyes, though her hated her own emotional 
state.  She vaguely remembered being fourteen years old and terrified 
of the destiny that awaited her should she chose to follow Michiru down 
the path of being a Sailor senshi.  The two things she could never 
outrun were her past and her future.  And these girls, with the full 
force of their love, had accepted it so easily, whereas she still had 
problems coming to terms with the fact her dreams had long since turned 
to dust.

"Mamotte," Haruka whispered.  "To protect her, is that why?"

All four nodded.

Making the mental breach, she suddenly remembered that Mamoru probably 
knew nothing of this.  "Has anyone told Mamoru-san?"

"He isn't worth the 50-yen piece it would require to make the phone 
call," Minako said icily, truly assuming the role of leader for the 
first time.  Haruka saw the clearly defined hatred and rage in the 
perky blonde's eyes and feared for her.  Anger aged a person without 
and within, Haruka had learned.  The senshi would have never believed 
her if she had told them that she was only a year older than they 
themselves were.

"Minako . . . " Haruka opened her mouth and shut it, sighing and 
rubbing her temples.

"Is Michiru-san nearby?" Rei suddenly interrupted.  "I'd like to talk 
to her."

Upon hearing the name, Haruka had to choke back an urge to spit on the 
ground.  "She's too busy with her damned immortality," she bit 
contemptibly. 

All four Inner senshi felt little alarm bells go off in their minds.  
Haruka's vicious words meant that things had taken a turn for the 
worse.

Holding her head, Haruka rasped, "I want to see her."

"You can't," Minako said coolly.  "The doctors aren't letting anyone in 
right now."

"Watch me," Haruka snapped.  No one, not even the nurses, dared stop 
her, though that may have had something to do with the fact that the 
head nurse was obsessed with car racing and easily recognized Haruka.

Slipping through the corridors unnoticed, Haruka walked to the room as 
if by instinct.

The walls were stark white and made her want to cry.  It was times like 
these that Haruka remembered what horrible places hospitals were.  At 
its nexus laid the tiny Princess she had been charged with protecting 
so long ago, attached to virtually every machine in existence.

"Neko-chan?"

Drowsy eyelids slowly rose.  "Haruka-san?" she whispered weakly, unable 
to take her normally expressive voice over a pathetic volume.

"Neko-chan," Haruka smiled warmly, kneeling next to the bed.  Tenderly 
she whisked sweaty bangs from Usagi's eyes while biting her lip to keep 
from crying.  "Thought you might like to take a drive, neko-chan."

"Sounds good," Usagi murmured.

"It does, doesn't it?" Haruka asked, her gaze vacant.  "You and me and 
Michiru and maybe Setsuna in my convertible, without a care in the 
world . . . no destiny to think about, no future . . . just today.  
Doesn't that sound nice?"

"Haruka," Usagi implored weakly, "I'm going to get better.  The doctors 
. . . there's medicines, and . . . "

"What? Usagi-chan, what medicine?"

"Medicine for my heart . . . "

"Your heart?"  Haruka's voice skipped an octave.  "What's wrong with 
your heart?"

"Some rare infection," Usagi said.  "They said it's lucky it was caught 
early."

"You're telling me that . . . "

Tears dripped down Usagi's cheeks. "The infection at this stage has a 
40% mortality rate," she whispered.  "But don't tell anyone.  That's 
why they're thinking of replacing my heart.  To be safe.  Maybe I'd 
feel better with a new heart.  Stronger and not all smashed up."

A weak sob escaped her lips.  "Tell me he's here, Haruka.  Please tell 
me he's here.  Lie if you have to, but tell me. . . ."

Haruka couldn't even look at her in the eye.

"Oh God," she whispered in horror.  "I'm going die without him, aren't 
I?  I need him, Haruka.  He's my strength.  Mamo-chan is all I have.  
I can't . . . I *won't*. . . "

All Haruka could do is hold her hand and weep with her.

	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*

"We found a small laceration on one of her fingers that appears to be 
inflamed, which my best guess is where the bacteria entered," the 
doctor, a pompous, graying mid-40s man with enough degrees to drown a 
small cow told the crowd.  "It seems similar to acute endocarditis, but 
that develops more quickly and is almost always fatal within a few 
days. On the other hand, your daughter has an amazingly strong immune 
system.  I'm flabbergasted at how long she has held out."

"Endocarditis?" Ikuko whispered, as if afraid of the word.

"An infection of the heart valves and linings," the doctor said matter-
of-factly. "We have her on a heavy dose of antibiotics, but there are 
lesions all over the valves and signs of toxemia.  Preliminary X-rays 
also show dead tissue in the heart itself.  For now, we are going to 
try the antibiotics, in hopes of averting the need for a full heart 
transplant."

TRANSPLANT?!" Ikuko screeched.  Kenji quickly hushed his wife while 
trying to keep himself calm.

"If we must," the overbearing doctor said firmly.  Suddenly, his 
expression softened.  He seemed almost . . . compassionate.  "We will 
do our best by your daughter, Tsukino-tachi," he said very seriously. 
"She's lucky to have such loyal friends and family."

"Pity her lover isn't so magnanimous," a dour Haruka muttered from her 
corner of the hallway after listening to the doctor's diagnosis.

	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*

Cars were cold comfort in times when one woman was becoming 
increasingly convinced that love was dead and there wasn't actually any 
point in bothering.  Running as fast as she could through the frosty 
streets of Juuban, Haruka finally gave out in front of an apartment and 
lay on the hard pavement for a few minutes, trying to catch her breath.

Realizing where she was, the blonde pulled herself off the ground, 
despite the temptation to simply stay there until her heart gave out 
and she didn't have to feel anything.  She wouldn't allow herself the 
pleasure, however.  Forcing herself through the doors, she was met by a 
fat little bellman with a clearly inflated opinion of his importance.

"Excuse me, miss," he said haughtily.  "Visitors must be called in by 
tenants or have a pass."

"Would that pass do any good if I shoved it up your ass?"  Haruka said, 
standing four inches over the tiny man.

Sputtering, he protested, "I was just telling you for *information*."

"So was I," Haruka sneered, lifting the little tub of blubber with one 
hand and glaring at him straight on.  "May I go up now or am I going to 
have to actually shove something up your ass?  You look like the kind 
of little prick who'd enjoy it, fatty."

Gulping, he mumbled, "You may go through."

"That's better," Haruka mocked the man.  Pushing him aside, she pressed 
the button to summon an elevator.

On the ride, Haruka tried to compose a delicate way to give Mamoru such 
bleak news. Foolish as it was, Haruka had not given up hope that Mamoru 
would come through for Usagi.  And if Mamoru could get his act 
together, then maybe there was hope for Michiru and her.

Haruka knew which apartment it was from the fact there was no nameplate 
on the door.  Knocking firmly, she waited expectantly for him to 
answer.  When he opened it, eyes dead and whole figure emanating 
anguish, the first words out of her mouth were, "You fuckwit."

So much for delicacy.

	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*

"The doctors think she has a pretty good chance of making it, even if 
they do have to resort to a transplant," Haruka said, still standing in 
the doorway.

Mamoru was sitting on his couch, staring mindlessly into space.  His 
knees were tucked to his chest and, unless it was Haruka's imagination, 
he appeared to be shuddering.

"She was scared today," Haruka continued, delighting in hurting this 
man, this--this murderer.  "She tried so hard to be brave but all she 
wanted was for you to be with her and make the pain go away.  How 
pathetically naïve of her, I thought.  Look at you.  I'm surprised you 
can even look yourself in the mirror."

"I can't," came the hoarse reply.

"That's nice," Haruka said caustically.  "Much as I'd love to see her 
be able to get along without you, she needs you, so I'm hoping that you 
get your act together soon and go see her."  Haruka made a move to 
leave, but then turned around.  "Even if you are a monster."

She deliberately disregarded out Mamoru's tortured cry.

	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*

As she stepped out of the apartment, Haruka's sharp eyes focused on the 
tiny black figure on the pavement.  Clear blue eyes, so much like 
Usagi's, held a very human sorrow.  In the moonlight, the minute moon 
sigil on her forehead glinted, revealing the feline's identity.

"Luna," Haruka said passively, staring down at the cat.

Luna sighed and stood up.  "I knew something was wrong," she stated 
flatly.  "But she didn't want anyone to find out.  And now this . . . " 
The little cat looked away.

"What did you know?" Haruka queried, bending to meet Luna's sad eyes.

"I knew she was sick," Luna admitted, "very sick.  And I knew she was 
using the ginzuishou to hide it. . . "

"Using the ginzuishou? In her condition?"

"Not consciously," Luna assured Haruka.  "The crystal reacts to the 
user's heart, right?  So when Usagi-chan's began to fail, the power of 
the crystal started to pick up slack.  That's why she lasted so long in 
the first place.  As an advisor to the Royal Family of the Moon, I have 
the ability to sense when the crystal is being used."

"But you never told anyone?"

"It wasn't my secret to tell.  We guardians are sworn to secrecy about 
the private matters of our wards.  It wasn't until later that I 
realized that Usagi-chan didn't intentionally use the crystal to 
sustain her heart when it started to fail."

Haruka pondered the new information carefully, her gaze growing distant

"But after the incident with Mamoru-san," Luna continued quietly, "her 
heart couldn't take any more.  The ginzuishou . . . it crashed like a 
computer.  And so did Usagi."

Tears fell from both females' eyes.  "If only I had said 
something . . . " Luna affirmed miserably, "maybe then she'd be all 
right."

The tall blonde senshi scooped Luna up in her arms.  "You know Luna-
chan," Haruka said, "I'm beginning to wonder if all of us have some 
sort of 'if only' lurking in the back of our minds."

	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*

"Is your pillow fluffy enough?"

"Considering how many times you've plumped it, Mina-chan, it should be 
ready to float out of here."

"Hush up, Mako-chan," Minako reprimanded Makoto.  Smiling cheerily, she 
opened the blinds, letting in the thin, watery-gray light from outside.  
"Now isn't that nicer?"

"I can't tell the difference," Rei said honestly.

Minako looked ready to take this as an insult.  Then, realizing the 
shabby effect the outside light really had on the room, she closed the 
blinds again.  "Actually, I think it's nicer in here without it."

"It's fine," Usagi said, smiling weakly.  "You guys really don't need 
to stay."

"Who says we're here because of you?" Minako cracked.  "Ami's in the 
back working on homework--" on cue, Ami waved from her laptop, "--and 
as for me, it's either this or go home and tell my mother I failed 
another History test."

Usagi threw the tiny 'Princess' pillow Makoto had given her at Minako, 
but it landed embarrassingly short of the lithe blonde.  Rei grinned.  
"You always did throw like a girl, Usagi-chan."

"That's because I AM a girl, Rei-chan!"

"That's no excuse," she replied haughtily, sticking her nose up.  "I 
don't throw like that."

"Then what are YOU saying, Rei-KUN?"

The other three paused before bursting into laughter.  "Oh, Kami, Rei-
kun," Makoto cracked, "you really walked into that one!"

"So? I decided to let her win for once," Rei announced snootily.  
"After all, she IS ill."

"And so are you if you believe that," Minako rolled her eyes, unable to 
suppress a grin.  Even Ami could barely contain her giggling.

At that moment the doctor walked in, doing his daily rounds. "That time 
already?" Usagi asked the doctor curiously.

The on-staff doctor nodded.  "You seem to be doing well," she commented 
with a smile.  "I can hear you from down the hall."

All five senshi exchanged guilty looks.

"It's all right," the doctor assured them, "I was your age once too.  
Just try to keep down from here on in, all right?"

They nodded before marching out.

The doctor carefully looked around at the extensive selection of 
flowers, cards, balloons, and occasional stuffed animal scattered in 
the room.  "Someone is popular," she noted.

Usagi nodded.  "I guess I'm loved."

"Nice to know.  Are these roses from your boyfriend?"

At the thought of her boyfriend, Usagi's expression darkened.  "No," 
she said slowly, "I haven't received anything from him."

"What a jerk," the woman groaned.  "Men are incredible."

"Oh, I agree," Usagi lied.  "Ah . . . what time is it?"

"A little after 4. Why?"

"Just curious."

The doctor had made it through medical school; she had enough brains to 
not pry.  Finishing her tests in a crisp, businesslike manner that 
Usagi replicated, she left quickly.  The situation in the room was too 
sticky for the exhausted doctor to spend any real time pondering lest 
she come across something she would not like.

Once the doctor was gone, the senshi tromped back in, ready to be 
cheery.  "So . . . anyone want to play 'Guess Who?'" Minako offered 
when she saw Usagi's stormy face.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Oh, wow, is it really *that* late?" Makoto asked innocently, staring 
at her watch.

"You're supposed to *guess* the person, Usagi-chan--"

"THAT'S NOT WHAT I MEANT!" Usagi yelled in fury.  Her voice didn't have 
the strength it usually did, but she scared the senshi sufficiently.  
Their eyes were pealed, paying full attention.

Makoto looked down.  "We're sorry, Usagi-chan, we really are.  We were 
hoping you'd forget."

On Wednesdays, Mamoru got out of work at 2:30.  Usagi waited 
expectantly each day for Mamoru to come see her, kiss her, sweep her 
away from this nightmare, but he never came.  The senshi were tired of 
watching her hope flattened each day.

"That's sweet," Usagi snarled.  "But you *promised* you'd tell me."

"Usagi-chan . . . "

"Never mind," she shook her head.  "I don't think I want to see him now 
anyways.  Just go."

The four Inners were horrified.  "Are you really . . . ?"

"Didn't you hear me?"

"Usagi-chan--" Minako took a hold of her hand then dropped it as a 
spark ran through her system.  She rubbed her aching temples as her 
body recovered.

"Go."

"All right." Ami, Makoto, and Minako all walked out together.

Rei stayed behind, coolly defiant.

"Didn't you hear me?  I don't want to see you," Usagi snapped.

"I don't know why you're acting this way, Usagi-chan," the raven-haired 
priestess responded calmly.

She didn't know either, but that certainly wasn't going to stop her.  
Glaring at Rei, she watched as Rei sighed, picked up the flimsy plastic 
hospital chair she had brought in the room with her, and walked out.

The next sound she heard was the plunk of the chair onto the ascetic 
tile floor right outside her room.

	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*

He had not known what to expect when he walked down that aisle.  
Furuhata Motoki was used to having control, a steady foothold on which 
everything rested.  His grades were good, his relationships secure, his 
life was going in a direction of which he was master.  Only one portion 
of his life remained unable to maintain equilibrium with his carefully 
constructed destiny.

Yet this was the one aspect that had obsessed him from the first time 
he had met Chiba Mamoru, to understand and unlock the secrets hidden 
deep within the oddly beautiful creature--Motoki could not quite call 
him a man--to know that these secrets were part of something greater 
and lovelier than his ordinary mind had a firm grasp on.  This was what 
he had felt, but it had taken him years to put it into words.  Even 
Usagi had been unable to grasp it, to see the dim, unhinged shade that 
danced at the corner of his slate eyes, to see, for a moment at a time, 
what was inside him.

To understand, this was Motoki's greatest fear and greatest hope.  So, 
foolishly, he tried again.

The door was open.  Motoki stepped in to see Mamoru sprawled on the 
couch, toying with a shiny object.  As Motoki approached, he realized 
it was a knife.

"Are you planning to use that?"

Motoki tried not to choke.

"Maybe."  The voice was eerily affable, almost songlike in quality.  
Mamoru always did have a terrific voice.

"On what?"

"You ask too many questions."  Motoki was beginning to get really 
scared.

"On yourself?"  He could see it in his mind; the image was so 
disturbing he shut his eyes, as if they could protect him from his 
overactive imagination.

"No," he replied.  "Of course not.  That would be silly.  You're right 
here, aren't you?  You'd just call the police."

"Oh."  Motoki made up his mind to stay rooted to his spot.

"Then again," Mamoru continued pleasantly, still toying with the knife 
across his arm, "If you weren't here I would be very much able to off 
myself, ne?"

"Is that so."

"I could kill you.  That would work."

The blood drained from Motoki's face.  "You're not serious," he 
whispered, too paralyzed by terror to move.

"Am I?"  Now Mamoru turned around and Motoki saw what he had always 
known was there but never voiced; the dubiously bright light of lunacy 
coyly dancing in Mamoru's eyes, the cruel, childlike smile, the 
tortured flawlessness of the animal in front of him.  "It wouldn't be 
the first time, you know."

"Wouldn't it?"

"Of course not," he bragged in a self-mocking manner.  "I am a 
murderer.  Once is an accident, you see, but twice is a murderer.  The 
magic word is *twice*.  So what is to prevent me from doing it again?"

"I-I don't know," Motoki choked.  "What?  Our friendship?"

"Are we friends?  I didn't think I had any.  In fact, I don't think I 
feel anything at all."

Wasn't that the legal definition of insane, Motoki asked himself?  They 
called those sociopaths, right?

Sociopath or no, however, Motoki screwed up his courage and did the 
idiotic.

"I don't believe you."

The words rang with an uncanny determination to them.  Motoki vowed to 
not let Mamoru realize he was trembling inside.

He had half-expected Mamoru to shove that knife through his heart there 
and then, but, to his surprise, Mamoru fell back, gently nursing the 
area where he had played with the knife.  Blood, blood slipped down his 
arm, blood like life and sanity and . . . love.

"You would be right, then."

Motoki knelt at the couch, quietly surveying Mamoru's still form and 
wild eyes.  "I want to help," he stated firmly.  "Tell me how."

Mamoru laughed, a hollow, lifeless laugh.  "You know," he murmured, 
almost excitedly, "the first time I laid eyes on her I knew it was for 
forever.  Not for her, maybe, but for me, yeah.  I was never going to 
get away."  He sighed lowly.  "After a while I couldn't even tell where 
I ended and she began . . . if there was ever anything there before she 
came."  Two tears slipped from his eyes.

Motoki blinked.  "Are you talking about Usagi-chan?"

It was strange to hear the emotion in Mamoru's voice, the quiet 
reverence with which he spoke of her, the lonely longing and need.  Did 
Usagi know what a willing vessel she had in him?  No wonder he never 
wanted anyone to know what was inside him.  There was nothing but her, 
and that was a weakness to be exploited.

"She'll be my next victim, too, Motoki-kun; I won't stab her with a 
knife or snap her neck but she will die at my hand . . . my sweet 
Usa . . . "

Mamoru's head dropped off as he fell into his dreamworld.  The soft 
whimpers of pain indicated it was not a pleasant place, but who was 
Motoki to intervene?  With a heavy heart, he stood and turned to leave, 
but not before he saw the wound on Mamoru's arm.

Through the blood, he could see Usagi's name carved delicately into the 
flesh.

	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*

Minako was trying to sleep, really she was.  Her mother insisted that 
she attend school the next day, and, angry as she was about it, she had 
no choice but to acquiesce.

She was a perpetual optimist and liked to look on the bright side, 
though.  Perhaps school would be a nice distraction, that the banality 
of Chemistry and chatting with friends could sufficiently divert her 
attention from things like reality.

But much as she longed for escape, Minako had the uneasy feeling that 
that universally shared sentiment had been the problem all along.  
Behind the barriers Usagi and Mamoru had placed around their hearts, 
Minako could feel the black edge of fear running as an undercurrent to 
these.  Haruka was afraid too, afraid of the outright rejection by her 
lover that was looming.  And they were all afraid to admit Usagi was 
ill, that she may very well die and leave her senshi behind to pick up 
the pieces, to forge their own existences.  That fear haunted them all.

It was as if the Wraith really *had* seeped into their bones.

Tears sprang to her eyes.  "I want to sleep," she whispered into the 
inky air of her room.  "Please, God.  I'm so tired.  I can't think."

There was no answer.

So she would wait here longer, thinking more, about her fears, about 
the realities, and . . . well, this thing she had not wanted to think 
about, but what was the point?  It would haunt her no matter what.  
That day, when she had been with Usagi, she had held onto the little 
Princess's hand for a moment and sensed a jolt.  A sound had 
accompanied it; for some odd reason, she was certain the dull crunch 
had been the snap of a neck.

Strangely enough, though, it was at this point, when Minako was her 
most troubled, that she got her precious sleep.  Rest, however, did not 
come so easily.

	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*

The eyes. That was what she remembered later.  Cold.  Frozen.  Empty.

Or not empty, but full, full of a single thing--love, a twisted, 
demonic love.  So full, they were empty all over again.  The cold steel 
of the eyes . . . it was too much for her to handle.

Movements were made in slow motion, as if they were wading through 
molasses.  Strangely enough, her mind was similarly affected.  Each 
frantic thought that passed through her mind had time to make a 
distinct, deliberate impression upon her, each had infinite time to be 
analyzed and interpreted.

Gold. The power of the Earth, summoned to his hands.  So he was to . . . 
he would . . .

For a moment, her heart was filled with a strange warmth and 
possessiveness, veritably stunned that he was about to do this for her, 
not just to save her, but also to avenge her.  Because she *wanted* 
that horrible monster to die, and she was rapt, delighted by her 
lover's actions.

His eyes met hers.  Do it, she urged wordlessly.  Kill him.  He 
interfered.  With us, with this.  He has no place here.

But in a moment the sensation had been quashed, hidden from the light 
of day.  Now she was filled with fear and horror, now she was 
compassionate and sympathetic.

"NO!" she now pleaded, recanting the previous silent wish.

And then it happened.

The crack rang through her ears again and again and again . . . and 
again she felt it, the base ecstasy and wonderment.  But it fled so 
quickly that she would without doubt forget.

Mamoru looked at her expectantly, waiting for something . . . praise, 
maybe? She sensed how acutely he craved her love and approval, just as 
strongly as she craved his.  If even a normally gentle boy like Mamoru 
could fall so far for love . . .

She blacked it out; turned away from him.  Felt his eyes turn to the 
gift he had laid at her feet, afraid and oddly proud of his own work.

Her mind took over, screaming, "Look what's he's DONE!  The MONSTER!"

"You . . . you . . ." she stuttered pointlessly, uncertain of what you 
said when someone killed for you.  Some corner of her heart was yelling 
at her to thank him, to take him in her arms and kiss him senseless, to 
show him her gratitude. . .

Again she reeled.  This was ridiculous.  Her lover was a murderer, and 
now she glared at him, trying to pretend she was better than him, that 
she hadn't wanted this as badly as he had, not because this boy may 
have been about to rape her, but because he had tried to take something 
that was only for Mamoru.

"Anything for you," he professed miserably, trying to make her 
understand.  Didn't you want this from me?  she saw the question in his 
eyes.  I only did it because I thought you wanted it.  Didn't you want 
this from me?

But, just like she was, he too was ashamed.  Ashamed of his weakness 
and maybe strength, ashamed to admit that he had just killed in the 
name of the one thing pure and sweet in his life.

"Do you understand why you must leave me now?"  This was what he had 
been trying to prevent from the beginning, their love spiraling out of 
control, to the extent that innocents--if they could be called that--
got caught in a love that wasn't theirs.  In her ignorance, she had 
pursued him anyway, dared to want more, and inevitably become the 
catalyst for this entire mess.  At every step, he had offered her a way 
out, even today, when she could never get away, he still wanted to give 
her a chance to escape.

And, coward that she was, she ran, away from her love and, for all its 
consequences, the thing that made her *alive*.  She knew she was 
killing him, and she knew she was killing herself, but still she ran, 
hoping to find refuge in another.  Oh Gods, she was afraid, afraid of 
him, afraid of herself, afraid of what was between them. . . .

She left him there; let him believe he had done the wrong thing when 
she had wanted it so badly just like he had.  And she asked herself, 
had the situation been reversed, had he been in her position and she in 
his, would she have let it go that far?

The weight of her answer brought her to her knees.

	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*

Aino Minako's lithe form was pale and wobbly; in the moonlight, her 
normally soft golden aura was harsh and bright.  She stared up at the 
moon, trying to understand her dream, what she, no, Usagi, had seen.  
The dream from the night before, seen through Usagi's eyes but her own 
viewpoint (despite her helplessness to react in a way besides what 
Usagi had), still left Minako with an unsettled feeling in her stomach.

Now she was sitting in History class, attempting to pay attention 
to . . . what was it she was supposed to be paying attention to again?

Was it possible that Mamoru had killed to protect Usagi?  Minako had a 
difficult time believing that Mamoru could really do such a thing, past 
or present, yet some tiny voice chided her for such assumptions.  There 
had always been something a bit primitive lurking under the refined 
exterior; it gave him the intrigue that so easily charmed those around 
him.  It hadn't existed in the Silver Millennium, Minako recalled 
dimly.  Endymion had been a very well adjusted human being.  He had 
never been so unstable.  So it didn't surprise Minako that such a 
peculiarity would simultaneously pain him, underdeveloped and deprived 
as it was; it was something that could eventually destroy him had it 
had the chance.  His inner demons were excruciatingly strong, and not 
even Usagi had been able to do more than scratch the surface.

He'd never known what it meant to be loved, Minako realized in wonder, 
and therefore didn't understand what it meant to love someone else.  
Artemis had once said that Queen Serenity had wanted the senshi to live 
lives that would allow them to grow and develop in ways that had lacked 
on the Moon.  From this, Minako had long since concluded that Mamoru's 
upbringing was no accident.

But the Queen had not truly considered the consequences of subjecting 
Mamoru to such an existence.  It had never occurred to the Queen that, 
in his infinite loneliness, he would gladly cross the lines of sanity 
and propriety to keep what he had been denied for so long before.

How could anyone be surprised?

Suddenly Minako felt her heart begin to race.  It was a common feeling 
with her; it usually meant that someone close to her was having some 
sort of high-emotion interaction. Each reaction was different for each 
of her friends.  From the nature of the pulse and the sweat collecting 
on her forehead, she was actually able to discern that Mamoru was 
gearing up for some sort of confrontation.

He'd never get anywhere with Usagi in her current state of mind.  Eyes 
darting around, she wondered if it would be possible to somehow sneak 
out of class.

Through some miracle, this was the moment that a dreamy-eyed water polo 
captain bent down to ask Minako, "Did you finish the English homework 
last night?"

Minako was suddenly struck with a plan.  "Nishikawa-kun!" she 
screeched, feigning rage.  "At least buy me dinner!"

For the second time in barely three weeks, Minako had effectively 
usurped the class's attention.

"Nishikawa-san!" the teacher scolded.  "Are you bothering Aino-san 
again?"

Nishikawa's horrified blue eyes were wide as saucers.  He tried to 
answer the question but failed.

"Both of you are to go to the principal's office NOW!" Tamayo-sensei 
shrieked.  With little protest, Minako and Nishikawa scuttled out.

"Good thing that worked," Minako mumbled in relief.  Yes, she knew she 
was about to get in serious trouble for this, but the Princess had to 
be her first priority.  She fumbled for her henshin stick, in the hopes 
of teleporting there.

"What's the matter?"

She'd completely forgotten Nishikawa was there!  Swearing under her 
breath, Minako turned to face his wrath, which even she admitted he had 
a right to do.

To her surprise, however, Nishikawa was smiling at her, looking at her 
oddly.  "You looked upset," he explained matter-of-flatly.  "I mean, 
it's not every day a girl yells random sexual innuendo in class."

"This isn't everyday," Minako rationalized tersely.  "This friend of 
mine, she's about to make this really big mistake and . . ."

"How are you going to get off campus?" Nishikawa inquired.  "They've 
tightened security."

"Have they?" Minako cringed.  "I need to get out NOW."

"But then again . . ." Nishikawa flashed a thousand-watt smile.  "I've 
always enjoyed a challenge."

Taking her hand, he led her towards the back of the school.

"I don't get it," Minako complained to him.  "I've insulted you in 
class twice now.  Why are you helping me?"

"Because it takes a lot of balls to do that--metaphorically speaking," 
he tacked on when the blonde glared at him, "and I've always been a fan 
of Sailor V."

She stopped.  "Really?"

"Really.  Now come on."

They were silent as Nishikawa led her through various buildings and 
bushes.  Minako was barely paying attention, since her heart was 
beating so hard that it was getting tough to keep up.

"Here we are."  Nishikawa proudly stared out into the street.  "You'd 
better get going."

"Ah . . . great," she said lamely.  "I don't really know how to thank 
you."

"How about you let me take you to dinner next Friday?"

Minako melted.  "Sure," she breathed.  "I'd like that."  And on that 
happy note, she started running like a bat out of hell, leaving the 
handsome athlete smiling like there was no tomorrow.

	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*

It had taken Mamoru one hundred and six hours to gather up the courage 
to go to the hospital and see Usagi.  When he arrived there, wild-eyed 
but smooth in execution, he zeroed in on a gaunt Rei, who was sitting 
in a plastic hard-backed chair in front of Usagi's room, staring 
at . . . something.  He didn't know what.

"Rei-chan?" he whispered softly, trying not to upset her.

Rei looked at him with hazy eyes.  "You came," she said emotionlessly, 
never quite focusing on him.

In an instant Mamoru realized why she was here.  "Twenty-four hour 
vigil?" he asked, trying to make his scattered mind focus.

"I'd never leave Hime-sama in her time of need," Rei said decisively.  
Looking directly at him, she added, "Unlike you."

Swallowing, he walked inside, trying to ignore the feel of Rei's newly 
sharpened eyes boring into him.

The door slammed shut.  Mamoru jumped before realizing Rei had done it.  
Staring at Usagi, he took a long, deep breath.

How tiny she looked among the cacophony of machines and tubes!  Mamoru 
had to force himself to not break down there and then.  With unsteady 
steps he inched closer to her, trying to make his mouth work.

"I've been waiting for you."  Though weak, her voice was firm, 
resolute.

With a trembling sigh, Mamoru collapsed into one of the chairs next to 
her bed. She had no idea how much he longed to touch her.  He took an 
IV-burdened hand and kissed it gently.  She accepted the affectionate 
gesture but offered no response, positive or negative.

With newfound courage, Mamoru dared to reach forward and kiss her lips, 
which she also accepted dispassionately.  He spotted the star locket 
sitting on the stand next to her bed.  Squinting slightly, he tried to 
determine if it was his imagination or if the stone at the center 
looked darker somehow . . .

"I should have come sooner," Mamoru admitted.  "Much sooner."

"Like three years ago sooner."

"What?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all."

"Usa--"

"What happened to us, Mamoru?" she interrupted, staring out the window.

He wanted to lie down and die right there but still forced himself to 
remain in one piece, standing up and anxiously pacing to the window.

"I don't know," he began uncertainly.  "I honestly don't.  I guess I 
was hoping you could tell me that."

"Well, see . . . " Usagi took a deep, noisy breath, "I don't really 
know either.  After all, I'm just a child."

That hurt.  He tried not to openly wince but he sensed that he failed.

"Just a little girl," she added more forcefully, "just a naïve little 
child who doesn't know anything about love.  Isn't that right, *Mamo-
chan*?"

Mamoru stilled.  "I was upset," he protested.  "I didn't know what I 
was saying."

"Nice try," Usagi drawled, "but you've made it a point in this 
relationship to make me feel like the girl and you the man."

"Did I?" he pondered aloud.  "Did I really?"

"It doesn't matter anymore," Usagi said.  "Mamoru . . . we've been 
heading for this moment since I hit you over the head with a test 
paper."

They hadn't, actually.  That moment, eerily close yet seemingly ten 
trillion miles away, would come at a time at which they were changed 
and would change for forever.  Love is action, not words.  But at the 
time, the important thing was not that it really was, but that Usagi 
believed it was.  She certainly had Mamoru convinced.

"I've been thinking about it a lot," she said, voice dropping again as 
the anger petered out.  "Gods, Mamo-chan, I'm just a little girl, I 
can't . . . I mean . . ."

She started to cry, but when he went to wrap his arms around her, to 
comfort her as he had so many times in the past, she batted his hands 
out of the way.  They hung limply at his side, testament to his 
inability to act against her wishes.

"I never understood," she whispered, "never until that day.  What you 
felt for me, and what I felt for you.  You were so calm all the 
time . . . I never imagined . . . "

Tears came to his eyes.  Kneeling at her bedside, he protested, "I 
can't change the past . . . but you have to understand Usa-ko, it was 
only because of you, because I was afraid for you and . . . "

"I understand," she said, patting his head as he sobbed softly into her 
abdomen.  "I can even forgive you.  But, tell me Mamo-chan . . . what 
about next time?"

"Next time?"  His eyes were feral and bloodshot, gleaming like twin 
black holes.

"Next time someone gets hurt.  When will you snap, when are we going to 
cross the line again . . . what happens next time?"

"It won't!"

"How can I be sure of that?" she challenged him.

"Because the last thing I'd EVER want to do is hurt you!" he insisted 
piercingly, standing up to prove his vehemence on the matter.  
Unfortunately, his fire seemed to die out and he slunk back into the 
chair.  "But . . . but I don't know if that means anything to you," he 
continued dully.  "Maybe it would be best if I just left."

"Like last time?"

He started.

"Like every other time?"

"Usa . . ."

"You say you love me, don't you?"

"Of course!"

"That without me you're nothing?"

"Yes!"

"And you don't want to see me get hurt!"

"Isn't that obvious?"

"Then WHY ARE YOU LEAVING?"

Outside, as Rei tried not to listen, a breathless Minako trudged 
through the halls of the waiting room, scanning the area for life.  
After a quick flirting session with the cute nurse who let her in each 
day, she snuck back, searching for Rei.

"He's here, isn't he?" Minako grated.

"In there right now," Rei echoed mechanically.

"Oh shit."  Dropping onto Rei's lap, she put her ear to the door.  "I 
shouldn't go in there now, should I?"

"I'm almost tempted to say yes if it'd get you off my lap."

Back in the room, meanwhile, Mamoru twisted around almost fearfully, 
bracing himself for what came next.

To his surprise, her face was soft and dreamy.  A soft mist of tears 
stained her pale cheeks, but she still looked like a tiny goddess to 
him, someone who could easily rip him to shreds should she choose to.

"I love you so, so much," she breathed feebly.  "But I've been doing a 
lot of thinking, too.  About you, about us . . . and I think that you 
shouldn't come back here again."

Mamoru's lips were white, and his eyes . . . ghastly.  Usagi shuddered 
and looked away.

"Maybe . . . maybe our love *is* the problem . . . I mean, we love each 
other, right?  But where has that gotten us?  Nothing but sorrow and 
pain.  And I know that love is supposed to overcome any barriers, but 
maybe . . . maybe the reason that our love can't fix this is because it 
is the obstacle in of itself."

"No . . . Usa-ko, don't say that . . . "

"What you did that day . . . it was too much.  We crossed the line and 
we can't go back.  It mustn't. . . "

"But . . . " He stopped, utterly hopeless.  She was *supposed* to 
understand.  Why couldn't she?  Did she not love him?  The last thought 
sent Mamoru recoiling in sickness and terror.

"Every time I look at you, Mamoru, I'm going to remember that boy's 
face."

"Usa, please . . . I promise you, on my Honor as the Prince of 
Earth. . . "

"Don't bother," she growled. "It's too late for oaths.  I guess in the 
back of my mind I knew it would come to this, but I wanted to believe 
you were better than that.  I used to wonder 'if.'  Now I wonder 
'when.'"

Again he looked helpless, tangled in his sadness and fury.  Outside, 
Minako was everything but paralyzed by rage.

"Please, Usa-ko . . . " He dropped to his knees, heaving at the floor.  
Unable to look up, he persisted, "I can't lose you," he begged.  "I'll 
control my impulses.  I'll do what you want.  It won't ever happen--"

"You're lying," she rasped.  "To yourself and to me.  Because you will.  
Tell yourself differently, but it WILL happen."

"That's not . . . there won't--"

"It will ALWAYS be 'WHEN!'" she screamed at him.  "Like it or not, 
Mamoru, this is on YOUR hands."

A half-truth at best, Minako scowled from the other side of the wall.  
Rei wasn't listening.  She was using meditation exercises to distract 
herself from the argument.  The high-energy interactions of others 
tended to make herself and her power edgy, something she despised.  And 
there was no higher-energy couple than Usagi and Mamoru.

Half-truth or not, though, that was it for Mamoru.

Both Usagi and Minako felt him snap on every level, heard the dull 
sound of his heart splintering in his chest, the tormented, bestial 
noise he made in response.  With tedious steps he led himself away, 
clinging to his last shreds of sanity at least until he could be 
somewhere private.

Usagi listened to him walk out, her tears in sync with his, never 
turning to look at him.  This was the only way, she reminded herself.  
What she and Mamoru shared had grown too intense; it had spiraled out 
of control and now affected the well being of innocent people.

Minako had to grip Rei's head (who at this point came back to Earth) to 
keep from falling when Mamoru brushed by roughly.

"Mamoru-san," Minako called, "she's sick!  She doesn't know what she's 
talking about!"

"Doesn't she?"

And then he was gone, leaving an odd, cold breeze to go through the room.

"What happened?" Rei inquired unsteadily.  "Do you still need to clutch 
my head?"

Minako promptly let go of Rei, falling to the floor with a tremendous 
crash.  To Rei's surprise, though, she stood up and brushed herself 
off.

"They're SO going to regret that," Minako growled.  "I'm sure as Hell 
planning to make sure that Usagi does."

Marching into the room, Minako started her tirade by screeching, "You 
little fraud!"

Usagi was turned away from her, but Minako saw her thin outline jolt 
when she'd yelled.

"Didn't you WANT proof of his love?  What better proof could you 
*have*?"

Usagi was rigid.  Turning slowly, she said in a harsh, reverent voice, 
"How did you find out?"

"I don't know," Minako acknowledged frankly.  "I dreamt it.  Usagi-
chan, you know as well as I did that what just happened was out of 
line."

"Don't tell me that," Usagi snapped.  "You have no idea how I feel."

"Maybe you should take your own advice," Minako reiterated.

"What do you . . .?"  Usagi was genuinely confused.

Inhaling softly, Minako stalked up to the foot of the bed and 
stridently glared at Usagi.  "Usagi," she said carefully, "look me in 
the eye and tell me you didn't want it to happen."

"What? I don't understand," Usagi declared unsteadily.

"Yes, you do.  I mean it.  Look me straight in the eye and say that you 
didn't want Mamoru-san to do what he did."

She didn't even bother to look up.  Huffing loudly, she turned back to 
the window.

"You can't do it," Minako taunted her.  "You can't do it because I'm 
right and you know it."

"Go away, Minako-chan."

"I'm already going."  But as Minako waltzed out, she called to Usagi, 
"Maybe I'll go, but your problems are staying right in this room, Usa-
chan."

	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*

For a while, it seemed that Usagi's prognosis was steady.  She was 
sadder, undoubtedly because of Mamoru, but she smiled and laughed when 
the Inners came and entertained her with their antics, or she received 
yet *another* bouquet from family or friends, or she chatted with her 
mother about the lousy food and nibbled on the cookies her brother 
slipped her. During this time, her heart did not deteriorate further, 
and the heavy antibiotics appeared to be doing their job.

But the doctors were still worried, and Rei gave them credit for 
realizing that things were not as they seemed.  Each time Usagi had 
protested their reluctance to release her, Rei saw the plump 
physician's face distort with apprehension.

Haruka was scared too, but not for exactly the same reasons.  She had 
heard through the grapevine about Usagi and Mamoru's confrontation.  
Somehow she sensed that Mamoru had not taken it well. She dropped by 
his apartment one night.  The lights had been off and she received no 
answer at the door.  But when she looked up to the balcony she had seen 
him, staring alternately at the moon and the cold pavement below in a 
rather bleak fashion.

That was the night the pieces started to come together in her mind.  
Try as she might, however, Haruka could not quite make the connection.

The locket was the most logical link.  All three had some sort of 
emotional investment in it, and all three had been holding it at some 
time when the Wraith had attacked . . . yet Sailorsaturn had destroyed 
said Wraith.  And Usagi and Mamoru's problems had existed long before 
Michiru had been involved.

What was the locket doing, then?  If the locket really were a symbol of 
true love, then why would it conspire to break Usagi and Mamoru apart?

All of that was on Haruka's mind that day as she walked into the 
hospital that day.  Holding the cold locket in her palm, her eyes 
widened in horror as she watched several doctors whiz by, all working 
frantically to revive the girl on the gurney, the girl who, according 
to the shouts of the doctors, had no pulse.

And Usagi was the girl on the gurney.

The locket slipped to the ground, clattering loudly in the bare hall.

"Haruka-san?"  A pale, haggard Rei looked at her through feverish 
amethysts.

"What . . . happened . . . ?"  The tall girl suddenly found her legs 
were too weak to support her body.  She wavered on her feet as if 
intoxicated, trying to keep herself from passing out.

Rei, like an angel, reached out, steadied Haruka, and led her to a 
chair.  Wordlessly she pulled the older senshi into the seat and 
proceeded to rub Haruka's temples, relaxing both of them some.

"I can't . . . this is . . . what . . . "

"It started last night," Rei said blankly.  "About half an hour ago, 
her heart failed completely.  I called her parents . . . they're on the 
way."

"What?"  As her coherence returned, Haruka's eyes narrowed on Rei.  
"Why now?"

"I'm not sure," Rei admitted.  "But I talked to Minako-chan yesterday.  
She said that Luna was still sensing drainage from the ginzuishou.  We 
think it might've crashed again--"

"What's that sound?" Haruka stood up suddenly, her gaze darting back 
and forth.

"Sound?"

"The music," she said, still looking around.  "Where is it coming 
from?"

Rei's ears perked.  "Come to think of it, I do sense an odd presence in 
the room.  Not evil, but . . ."

"Oh, Gods."

Haruka and Rei's eyes simultaneously focused on the mournful song of 
the locket.

	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*

". . . fortunately for your daughter, not for that unlucky soul or his 
family, a young man died about six hours ago.  His heart is a near 
perfect match for Usagi-san's. We couldn't hope for better.  As wary as 
I am about risking weakening her immune system, the staff and I agree 
that the transplant is the most prudent course at this point."

"Are you sure about that?"  Kenji stared at his pretty wife, who, 
though no more than forty, looked to be a thousand.  "A heart 
transplant is a very serious step."

"her heart has now failed nearly beyond revival, Kenji-san.  The valves 
around the heart are shot, and she will suffer brain damage if we don't 
get them fixed right away.  We have to do this ASAP."

"Of course, doctor," Ikuko said stonily.  "Do what you must."

"The operation will be some time tonight.  She's stable right now.  
I'll allow family and friends to see her within the next hour or so, 
but after that she's going to the anesthesiologist."

	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*

"So you've never heard the song before?"

"No, I haven't.  It sounded like the Moonlight Densetsu, but . . . 
warped."  Rei groaned.  "I hate waiting."

"So do I," Haruka intoned, "but complaining about it only seems to make 
things go slower."

Rei sighed and turned away from Haruka.  "Why do you have it, anyway?"

"Michiru was using it for a piece she's been writing.  I thought Usagi 
might want it."

"Why would you think that?  She told Mamoru-san off."

"Maybe," Haruka conceded, "but there are these moments when she thought 
no one was looking . . . you could tell that she wanted him there."

"I see."  Rei fingered the locket in Haruka's hands.  "I think she's 
hiding something," Rei uttered, looking away.

"So are we all."

"Rei-chan?"

"Tsukino-san!"  Rei sprang up with new energy and bowed to Usagi's 
mother.  "Is everything all right?"

Ikuko bit her lip.  "They're doing a full heart transplant," the woman 
whispered.

Rei and Haruka exchanged glances.  "That bad?" Rei uttered through 
white lips.

Ikuko nodded, trying not to cry.  "They stabilized her.  You can see 
her if you want."

Haruka picked up the locket and silently followed Rei to Usagi's room, 
still trying to place the strange song from the locket.

	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*

Usagi gazed steadily out the window, still deep in thought.  Mamoru was 
on her mind, of course--when wasn't he?  Closing her eyes, she 
remembered the anguished plea in his slate eyes, trying to forget its 
insinuations.

She'd thrown him out because she was afraid, hadn't she?  Afraid of the 
truth.  Afraid of hurting him.  Afraid of . . .

"Neko-chan?"

Haruka's voice cracked and wavered in a strangely fluid way.  Usagi 
turned to stare at the proud Outer senshi, looking hopelessly lost, 
clinging to her sanity by a finer thread than she knew.

"Haruka-san," Usagi croaked meekly.

Haruka stepped up to the bed and ruffled Usagi's bangs.  "Don't talk, 
neko-chan. Save your breath."  Usagi's lips turned up slightly.

Rei stepped in presently, gracefully striding to Usagi's side.  "Are 
you feeling any better, Hime-sama?"

Usagi didn't answer her.

"I'll take that as a no," Rei murmured worriedly.

"Neko-chan," Haruka smiled, "I brought you something."  She placed the 
locket in Usagi's lap.

Usagi's eyes grew wide.  "My . . . " she whispered reverently.  Slowly 
her hand coiled around the piece, caressing it lightly.

"I thought you might want it back," Haruka said.  From the content look 
on Usagi's face, Haruka had guessed right.  Rei's face broke into a 
real smile.  Brushing away the bangs Haruka had messed up, she entwined 
her left hand with Usagi's free one.

"You have to get better, Usagi-chan," Rei said quietly.  "For yourself 
as well as the rest of us."

Usagi stared at the locket.  Her fingers moved quickly to unlatch the 
little piece, but in her drugged state she lacked the alacrity required 
for the task.

"Let me."  Haruka carefully pried open the locket.  Within moments, the 
new, doleful song of the locket began to play.  Cringing, Haruka faced 
Usagi.

To her surprise, though, Usagi did not seem to mind.  "I like it," she 
murmured softly.  It . . . matches . . . how I feel."

Haruka and Rei exchanged looks.  "We'd better leave, Usagi-chan," Rei 
said.  "You're supposed to go under soon."

"But we'll be waiting for you," Haruka promised.  "Don't worry about a 
thing, neko-chan. We'll watch over you."

Usagi couldn't even make herself smile for them as they walked away.

	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*

Days passed, seasons stayed the same.  Haruka felt as if she were stuck 
in a time loop, unable to quite give up or find the courage to break 
free. Cursing herself as a coward, she said in the chair of the waiting 
room, impatiently waiting for news . . . any news.

It was foolish for her to her to hope against all hope that she was 
wrong, that the Wraith had been speaking literally when It had cursed 
Usagi. She just wanted to pretend, pretend it never happened, pretend 
it would all go away like the bad dreams Michiru had held her through, 
on nights when shameless weeping and anguish were all right. On nights 
she felt loved.

*The song you hold in your heart will be your death march.*

"Tsukino-tachi?"

Haruka had forgotten about the other people in the room, the four 
Inners huddled together, the family united in their misery.  Haruka sat 
apart, watching as the pompous doctor's exhausted lump trod through the 
door.

"How did it go?" Kenji inquired stonily, showing no real emotion on his 
face.

The doctor let out a deep breath.  "As well as we could have expected," 
he said quietly.  "The infection ravaged the valves and completely 
deadened large parts her heart.  Unfortunately . . ." He sighed again.  
"She'll be on immune suppressants to keep her body from rejecting the 
new heart, but we believe that your daughter is on the road to 
recovery."

"May we see her?" Rei asked expectantly, standing up abruptly.

The doctor looked over Rei and said slowly, "We prefer immediate family 
only."

"Let her go," Ikuko quickly announced.

With a grateful smile, Rei stepped into the hallway, ignoring the 
doctor's disconcertion.

Makoto looked over at Ikuko's tiny smile.  The Amazonian senshi 
realized that, though she may not know all of the details, indeed knew 
that these girls were, for whatever reason, charged with watching over 
her daughter.

Rei, meanwhile, stepped into the recovery room, where Usagi was still 
recovering from heavy anesthesia.  Limp raven strands hung around the 
pretty miko's face.  Her violet eyes seemed gray as she examined 
Usagi's near-lifeless form attached to the machines.

She didn't cry, despite how badly she wanted to do just that.  Instead, 
Rei took a deep breath and steadied herself.  She stepped forward 
again, eyes never leaving Usagi's pallid face, assured that she was 
breathing on her own, however shallowly.

She reached out her hand.

"Mamo-chan?"

Frightened, Rei drew back, biting her lip so hard she drew blood.

"Mamo-chan . . ." She was holding her locket.

"Amazing," a voice came from behind her.  Rei jumped.

Two blondes, one with a big red bow on her head, one with a short, 
choppy cut, were in the doorway.  Minako and Haruka walked forward, 
seeming infinitely comfortable in each other's presence.  In times like 
these, Rei realized with a heavy heart, there was no Inner and Outer 
senshi.  There were the Senshi and everyone else.

"Amazing," Minako repeated impassively.  "After that performance last 
week, I almost thought that she had said goodbye for all time."

Haruka looked away.  "It may be yet."

With a wrenching gasp, Rei launched herself in Haruka's arms, sobbing 
painfully into the taller girl's chest.  Haruka held her awkwardly, not 
certain what to do with this sudden burst of emotion.  She simply stood 
as Minako tried to calm down the bawling Rei.

A few minutes later, Rei pulled herself together, though her eyes 
looked dead.  After some quarreling with Minako, she allowed herself to 
be taken out of the room and back to the shrine, where she eventually 
slipped into a light, troubled sleep.

Haruka drove back to her hotel and waited a long while before slipping 
into the same restless slumber.

	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*

Soft lips, sleek hair across a cheek.  Long, slender fingers brushed 
her neck, making her tremble.  Haruka groaned softly, already aroused 
by Michiru's seductive caress.  Taking her roughly, Haruka dragged her 
lips across the lovely woman's own.

Michiru laughed, a sound like soft bells.  Haruka responded more 
provocatively, wrapping her fingers in the silken aqua strands, 
deepening the kiss the women shared.

When she had finished running her hands through Michiru's hair, she 
came down and gently unbuttoned Michiru's blouse, slipping the garment 
off her lover's slim shoulders.

But just as she was about to work off the bra, Haruka opened her eyes--
and gasped.

"Michiru," she whispered as she pushed the woman away, overwhelmed with 
repulsion.

Where Michiru's shadow was cast, there was a gaping hole in the chest.

Michiru blinked innocently.  "Is something the matter, aisuru?" she 
queried, seeming to not notice the hole where her heart should've been.  
She stood up, which confirmed that this was real and not a mere trick 
of the light.

"Your heart. . . . " Haruka couldn't say anything.

"What heart?" she asked mechanically.

"Michiru . . . "

"Haruka," Michiru straddled herself in Haruka's lap, tenderly caressing 
her tomboyish lover's face, "don't you love me?"  Anyone could have 
seen it, the love and adoration in her eyes, but Michiru's love for 
Haruka never came into question.

Aroused, then reminded again of Michiru's serious defect, she scrambled 
away, unable to speak.

"What's wrong?"  Michiru was beginning to get angry.

"You have a hole where your heart should be?" Haruka was growing 
scared.

With fiery eyes, she turned to glare at her lover.  "No," she said 
forcefully, scaring Haruka to death, "I am here with you, Haruka, 
because by your side is where I belong," she snapped.

"But . . . "

"Don't you love me?"

"Of course I do!"

"As I you.  And they told that in order to be here with you I had to 
leave my heart in Hell."

"Michiru?"

"My love . . . for all you fight it, you need me.  But you chose.  
Between the Princess and myself, you chose her. I can't begrudge you 
that.  But you chose.  I sold myself to follow you here, and now . . . 
now . . . now you spurn me for it!"

"Michiru . . . please listen to me--"

"There is nothing to be said!"

The room exploded.

Fire was everywhere, Haruka was forced to breathe in the heady smoke 
and frantically tried to find Michiru.  The world around her blazed; 
searing heat pressed through her skin and rushed through her veins.  
Colors became nothing more than a palette of gray, red, and black.

And in all the haze, she saw, saw as her poor beautiful lover was 
incarcerated in the flame, screaming Haruka's name even as her being 
was consumed by the energy, an energy made of the purest, whitest 
hatred and the blackest love.

Haruka collapsed, weeping as she breathed in the smoke.  Blocking out 
the driving chaos around her, she waited without really knowing; she 
waited until there was quiet and cold and she could hear herself think.

Before she knew it had been given to her. With rough motions she stood 
up, searching for her lover.

"Michiru?"  The voice was quiet and pitifully weak.

"There is no longer a Michiru here."

Where her lover once stood was now a screaming Wraith.

	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*

With a gasp, Haruka awakened, tearing flowing freely from her eyes.  In 
a series of abrupt motion-like actions, she jerked herself into her 
car, forgetting she wore only a large collared shirt her underwear, and 
a pair of socks.

Each step towards the hospital seemed more torturous than the last, yet 
somehow she slipped through the security cracks again, probably thanks 
to her power as the Senshi of Wind. Shivering with cold, she walked to 
Usagi's room instinctively, rushed yet very steady.

The proud Princess of her memory was shriveling before her very eyes, 
and for the first time in her life, Haruka felt utterly helpless.  At 
this point, she knew there was nothing more she could do.

But there was someone who could.

Someone knew the answer.

Someone would face the truth.

Haruka trudged on, despite her bone-deep weariness.

	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*

In what seemed an instant later (Haruka never really knew how long it 
took her; it may have been a few minutes and it may have been a few 
hours), she was at another door, knocking this time, frantic, angry, 
and empty. With ferocious strength, her hand came down on the door 
once, twice, thrice--again. And again, she did not know how long she 
knocked, only that her hand hurt for days afterwards.

When Dr. Tomoe answered, mumbling something about salespeople, he 
stared at Haruka through hazy, blind eyes, having been too drowsy to 
remember where his glasses were.  But he somehow recognized Haruka.

"Ten'oh?"  The scientist looked puzzled.  "What time is it?"

"I need to see Hotaru-chan."

"She's asleep, Ten'oh-san.  Call in the morning."

"Otou-san?"  A sleepy Hotaru shivered in the night air under her thin 
boxer set.  "Who's there?"

"Go back to bed, matsujo.  You have school in the morning."

"Hotaru-chan!" Haruka cried wildly.  "Hotaru-chan, I need to talk to 
you!"

"Haruka-papa?"  The raven bell of hair rose, revealing glassy violet 
eyes.  "Haruka-papa, is that you?"

"Hotaru-chan . . . it's about Hime-sama . . ."

"Hime-sama?"  Hotaru snapped to attention.  Surveying her father's 
puzzled expression, she said very seriously, "Otou-san, Haruka-papa 
needs my help.  I have to go with her now."

"MATSUJO!"  Too late. Despite the freezing weather, Hotaru fled 
shoeless into the cold night air with Haruka at her side.

	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*

Maybe it looked silly to see a barefoot Hotaru, wearing only her thin 
chemise and Haruka's parka, but no one in the waiting room was laughing 
that night.  That night, Haruka remembered later, there were no family 
or friends milling in the lobby, simply six senshi, all together and 
all alone at once.

It was better that way.  The senshi were beginning to resent the 
visitors and family's constant presence, despite their perfect right to 
be there.  This was their Princess; she was their responsibility and 
their astute privilege, and she was not to be shared.

Now Haruka dared to look up.  Minako stared listlessly out a window, 
eyes cool and calm.  None of her usual vigor or good cheer was with her 
that night.

Ami and Makoto sat by each other, offering words of comfort and sorrow.

Rei didn't stare anywhere; her eyes were dull and her fire had long 
since been extinguished.  With a heavy heart, she tried to make eye 
contact with Haruka, but found she lacked the strength.

Hotaru merely observed, as she had been doing all her life, but for all 
her icy indifference and the power of Saturn behind her, she was as 
vulnerable as they.

"This is my fault."  Hotaru's lips trembled as she spoke.  "I should 
intervened sooner, but . . . Setsuna-mama . . ."

Haruka turned.  "Setsuna-mama what?" she asked, looking confused.

"Setsuna-mama wanted me to stay clear of battle," Hotaru replied 
quietly.  "She said I was too young to wield my power properly.  I 
broke taboo when I fought in the battle with the Damned One."

Rei's ears perked up.  "Do you mean the Wraith?" she inquired, finally 
focusing on Hotaru.

"I don't understand," Minako said.  "It was just some stupid shadow, 
wasn't it?"

"I knew it," Rei muttered.  "I knew it, I knew it, I knew it."

Minako glared at her.  "That's good for you," she rolled her eyes, "but 
why in God's name didn't you SAY anything?"

"I-I wasn't sure," Rei said, tears forming in her eyes.  "I didn't want 
to believe it.  I was . . . I am . . . afraid."

A sharp, bitter laugh rang out.  "That's it then," Minako bit, laughing 
again, "that's why this happened.  We were afraid.  We were afraid of 
Mamoru-san and we were afraid of interfering.  Every last one of us. 
And don't you DARE hide behind Setsuna-san's appeals, Hotaru-chan.  You 
didn't want to question it because we were afraid of the answer."

Haruka wanted to cry.

"Don't jump on her, Minako!" Rei snapped.  "You didn't do anything 
either.  We *all* sat around and watched this happen!"

"May I see her?"  Hotaru's voice was quiet and strangely defeated.

Haruka quietly led Hotaru into the halls, mapping the best way to sneak 
past the nurses to Usagi's room.

"I cannot believe that you would have the AUDACITY--"

"Oh, hush up you hot-headed brat!" Minako screamed at Rei.  "You just 
said you saw this coming, so don't act all high and mighty with me, 
Rei!"

"Listen, you little tease--"

"I am NOT a tease!"

"She's right, Rei-chan."  A booming, womanly effigy stood in the 
doorway of the waiting room, her rich olive skin, and deep green hair 
illuminated by the weak fluorescent light.  Warm magenta eyes 
were...mournful, yet maintained an odd sparkle.  "Minako-chan is by no 
means a tease."

While the other three senshi reeled, Minako took this as an opportunity 
to cut in with, "See?  See, Rei-chan?  Even Setsuna-san's defending 
me!"

"After all," the senshi of Time added with a twinkle in her eye, 
"Minako can't be a tease as long as she's still sleeping around."

"Yeah, exactly!" Minako bellowed.  "Hey!  Waaaaaaaaiiiiiiiit..."

Setsuna simply smiled.  "It's good to see all of you again," she began, 
her face growing serious.  "I had hoped our reunion would be on more 
pleasant terms, but the situation at hand has become dire."

"We're happy to see you," Ami greeted her, speaking up for the first 
time that evening.  "In fact, we have some questions that maybe you can 
answer."

She shook her head.  "I am more ignorant of the current state of 
affairs than any of you are.  The Keeper of Time is not supposed to 
watch the time stream flow.  It curbs the temptation to intervene.  
Nonetheless," Setsuna sighed, "even from another dimension I could 
sense Hotaru-chan's distress.  She makes for an excellent barometer."

"Is that so," Ami mused.

"Are you going to explain that little crack now, Setsuna-san?"

"My, my, aren't we defensive.  Did I strike a chord?"

Minako turned several shades of red.

"So what are we to do?" Rei interjected, deliberately ignoring Minako.

"To tell you the truth . . . " Setsuna looked tired; for the first time 
the senshi saw her thousand-plus years reflected in her ruby eyes.  "To 
tell you the truth, I don't know."

"Setsuna-mama?"

The woman turned around.  Still barefoot, Hotaru stared at the imposing 
woman, eyes overflowing with awe and elation.

"Hotaru-chan," Setsuna beamed.  In a flash, Hotaru was swept into the 
older woman's arms, showing an affection and warmth the senshi had not 
previously observed in the woman.  Hugging the small Hotaru to her 
chest, long fingers with perfect nails stroked the girl's hair in a 
motherly fashion, comforting the both of them.

Haruka stood in the hall, eyes nearly dead.  "You're here," she 
punctuated 
slowly, her empty expression sweeping over the woman.

Setsuna looked sad.  "I should have come sooner, Haruka."

"You're telling me."  Haruka slipped away, disappearing into the cold 
night air.

	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*

"You finally dragged Rei-chan home?"

"According to her grandfather, being stuffed up in that hospital was 
bad for her," Minako said to Motoki as she sat forlornly at the bar.  
"Ami-chan's with her, making sure she doesn't go back."

"Wait," Motoki interrupted Rei, "I thought that Rei-chan and Usagi-chan 
fought all the time."

Makoto leaned forward.  "They'd never admit it," Makoto divulged, "but 
there are no two more loyal friends than Usagi-chan and Rei-chan.  I 
guess in that way they're almost sisters."

"I see."  Motoki wiped the counter listlessly.  "Speaking of Usagi-
chan, how is she doing after her operation?"

The brown-haired senshi closed her eyes.  "Not well," Minako said 
honestly.  "Her body's not accepting the heart, and since she's on 
drugs that weaken her immune system, she's having an even harder time 
fighting off the infection now.  They . . . " Makoto leaned into 
Motoki's ear.  "They're not sure if she's going to make it."

"Oh Gods."  Motoki turned white.  The first thing he thought of was 
what this would do to Mamoru.  "You're serious, aren't you?"

"Do you actually think I could kid about something like that?" Makoto 
hissed.  "Give me a break, Motoki-san."

"Sorry," he apologized.  "I'm a little on edge these days."

"On edge? Why?"

Motoki exhaled.  "Mamoru-kun . . . he's been . . . not well."

"Not well?"

"I guess," Motoki admitted unsteadily.

"Well I know he argued with Usagi-chan," Mako informed him, "but I 
haven't seen hide nor hair of him lately."

"Maybe that's because he hasn't left his apartment since then," Motoki 
stated flatly.

Mako[to looked up, green eyes meeting green.  "What?" she queried, 
curiosity getting the better of her.

"You heard me," Motoki replied.  "I mean . . . well, he's never been 
happy, you know.  With the parents being dead and all."

"Even with . . .?"

"He was never comfortable with his feelings towards Usagi-chan," Motoki 
responded.  "Mamoru-kun was never truly happy in love.  He was afraid 
opening up would come back to haunt him."  Motoki expressionlessly 
wiped an invisible spot off the counter.  "I used to be jealous of him, 
you know," he told Makoto.  "He's brilliant, independent, talented--the 
girls fall over him.  And pretty loaded to boot.  But all that came at 
a very, very high price."

Makoto squirmed uncomfortably under Motoki's gaze.  All this new 
information was unsettling for her.  "Wow," she commented, not looking 
up.  "Um . . . I'd better go."  She turned to leave.

A strong arm gripped her wrist.  Twirling back around, she saw Motoki, 
looking at her in a pained fashion.

"Motoki-san . . ."

Motoki's breathing was ragged and his grip a little painful.  Awakening 
from her daze, Makoto now fully absorbed the extent of Motoki's own 
private demon, his continual inability to help his best friend.  Makoto 
quietly placed a smooth hand on Motoki's trembling cheek.

"Tell me," Makoto said quietly.  "Please."

"He really does love her," Motoki said, taking in a long, quivering 
breath.  "But he's scared of something.  I don't know what, but . . . I 
think it has to do with what happened."

"What happened?"  Makoto held her breath hopefully.

"I . . . I have American pen pals I talk to for my English class," 
Motoki whispered.  "One of them is in an anime club at Harvard.  A-
around the time Mamoru-san announced he was staying at Harvard for 
another year . . . there were . . . problems."

"What problems?"  The tall brown-haired girl tried to keep her voice 
calm, trying not to frighten the already terrified Motoki.

"A robbery somewhere near campus," Motoki murmured.  "People . . . 
people died.  When I tried to talk to Mamoru-san about it, he'd always 
changed the subject.  But I knew . . . I mean I always got the feeling 
. . . and yesterday, I went to see him, and he was so lost, Makoto-
chan, I didn't know what to do . . . I . . . it scared me."

Tears fell freely from both sets of eyes.  Makoto wiped hers away but 
Motoki didn't even bother.  Slinking into a booth, Motoki continued, 
"He was never happy until he met her," Motoki murmured.  "Never.  But 
from the second she walked into his life, he . . . he changed for the 
better.  And to see him like that yesterday, unable to do anything but 
watch him. . . like that . . . my best friend . . . I hated it . . . he 
said that he was a murderer and she was his next victim.  For the first 
time, Makoto, I was scared of him.  Really scared of him.  I didn't 
even know it was possible for someone to be in that much pain and still 
breathing."  Motoki let out a breath, a low hiss of relief.  "He made 
me promise not to tell anyone, but . . . "

"You did the right thing," Makoto said weakly.  "Please don't worry any 
longer, Motoki-san."

Motoki rubbed his face with his palms.  "I don't know why, but I got 
the feeling you could help," he said dully.  "Don't blame him for this, 
Makoto.  He does enough of that himself."

She smiled through the glitter of her tears, her anger towards Mamoru 
now completely evaporated.  And for the first time, she realized that 
just as Mamoru so effortlessly hurt Usagi, Mamoru was just as easily 
bruised.  She broke into a run towards the Hikawa shrine.

	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*

"American crime records!" Makoto screamed as she slid into the main 
room of the temple.

"Excusez-moi?" Rei asked, not even looking up from her tarot card 
spread.

"Ami-chan, can you find police reports for any crimes committed in the 
Boston area about nine months ago?" Makoto asked breathlessly.

"Police reports?" Ami asked incredulously.  "In order to that, I'd have 
to be able to hack into the United States government's mainframe and 
sort through what could easily be thousands of records in order to find 
one matching whatever description you have for me, then translate it 
into Japanese because my abilities aren't strong enough for formal 
English-language documents."

"Which means?" Makoto looked a little impatient.

"Sometime this evening," Ami ventured.

Two heads whipped around.  "Are you serious?" Makoto said, jaw hanging 
limply on the floor.

"Of course," Ami said with a wicked gleam in her eye.  "You don't play 
around with computers 24-7 without picking up some useful skills."

"Useful skills?"

"Let's just say that the only 89 I received in my academic career will 
never see the light of day," Ami said fiendishly.

Rei looked stricken.  "You can DO that?!" she asked, immediately 
processing the potential benefits of this new piece of information.

"So, Ami-chan . . . "

"No."

"I was just asking for information!"

"Sure, Mako-chan, I really believe that.  Now do you want me to find 
that file or not?"

	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*

"This is a nice room, Haruka," Setsuna commented as she looked around 
the luxurious suite Haruka was staying in, "But then, I've always been 
fond of the Four Seasons chain.  Is the liquor free?"

"Doesn't matter. You can have some if you'd like," Haruka said 
listlessly from her spot on the plush velvet couch.  The sounds of 
Hotaru watching TV floated in from another room.

"Thank you."  To Haruka's surprise, Setsuna poured herself a generous 
glass of scotch and seated herself in an elegant Victorian-era 
armchair.  "The quarters at the Time Gate are a little sparse," she 
explained.  "Apparently the last keeper had austere tastes.  I keep 
telling myself I'll redecorate but I never seem to find time."

"That's hilarious, Setsuna-san," Haruka rolled her eyes.

"Well," Setsuna looked over at Haruka rather witheringly, "at least it 
got a response besides total apathy."

"Your idea of making me feel better is making bad puns and talking 
about the décor?"

"Nothing else seems to have worked."  Setsuna sipped her champagne.  
"This is excellent liquor," she commented, seeming pleased.  "Another 
thing I don't get the privilege of partaking in while at the Gate," she 
explained, swirling the drink around.  "You wouldn't happen to have a 
cocktail shaker, would you?  I haven't had a good martini since the 
Depression."

"Does this have a point, Setsuna-san?" Haruka scowled.

"I don't know, Haruka."  Setsuna's tone instantly turned professional.  
"After all, you haven't exactly been anxious to get to business."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Haruka barked, immediately sitting up.

"'Pride often goes before a fall,'" Setsuna quipped.  "Your lover has 
been behaving in a way completely unlike her, your Princess is dying, 
and your Prince may as well be, for the good it's doing us.  Now what 
are you going to do about it?"

"I don't know," Haruka sighed.  "I . . . I was wondering. . . you knew 
about the attack by the Wraith, right?"

"I was in the middle of fixing a time rip.  I sensed Hotaru-chan's 
henshin, but by the time I was finished, the battle was long over."

"I see," Haruka said uncertainly. "Well . . . Saturn-chan . . . she 
destroyed the youma.  Used her 'Silence Glaive Surprise' attack."

Setsuna paused. "Haruka, will you please reiterate what the meaning of 
the word 'wraith?'"

"What? What are you talking about?"

"This is for your benefit, not for mine.  Go on."

"Well . . . " Haruka paused. "A wraith is . . . a ghost, right?  A 
spirit."

"Good," Setsuna praised her.  "Now let me ask you a question: an attack 
like the 'Silence Glaive Surprise' has the ability to do great damage 
to matter on the physical plane.  It *cannot* destroy matter that 
exists on a spiritual plane, correct?"

"Of course.  So?"  But Haruka already knew where this was going.

"Your Wraith had no body.  Could you please explain to me how a 
creature with no physical essence can be destroyed with physical 
power?"

"Wait . . . WHAT?!"  Haruka launched herself off the couch as the 
realization fully hit her.  "Why the hell didn't anyone say anything?!  
We all assumed the stupid thing was dead!"

"That's a good question," Setsuna rejoined.  "And the answer is in the 
other room watching television."

Completely indignant, Haruka stormed into the television room, 
screeching girlishly, "Why didn't you TELL anyone the Wraith wasn't 
dead?!"

Hotaru looked up from her seat on the sofa.  "I never said it was 
dead," she replied seriously.

Haruka stopped.  "But we . . . we . . . "

"It's inside her Heart, just like it has been all along."

The phone rang.  Haruka glowered and yelled at Setsuna, "Pick it up 
already!"

"Ten'oh-san's suite.  How may I help you?"

With Setsuna now occupied with the phone, Haruka had time to process 
what the little Senshi of Death was saying.  "Wait a moment," Haruka 
seethed, "are you telling me that . . . that Creature . . . so It 
really is inside her heart?"

The raven bell of hair bobbed up and down.

"But . . . how . . . how is this possible?"  Haruka mentally reviewed 
the battle scene.  "When did it . . . "

"Haruka!  Hotaru-chan!  You'd better get in here!"

"Not now, Setsuna-san!"

"It's Ami-chan.  The Inners found something."

"Shit," Haruka cursed.  Grumbling, she prodded Hotaru into the 
conference room.

"Hold on," Setsuna told Ami.  "I'll put you on the speakerphone."  
After a moment, she found the correct button and pressed.

"Haruka-san?  Setsuna-san?  It's Ami.  Can you hear me?"

"Loud and clear," Haruka replied.  "What's up?"

"Mako-chan got a tip from Motoki-san earlier.  We found out what 
happened at Harvard.  There was an article in the Boston Globe about 
it."

Haruka looked over at Setsuna, who seemed confused.  "He's been acting 
strange since he came back."  Haruka quickly brought Setsuna up to 
speed, with Ami chiming in occasionally from the Inners' line.

"Okay, what did you find?" Haruka asked finally.

"Hear for yourself.  Minako-chan, will you be able to translate it for 
the Outers?"

After some shuffling, another voice came on.  "Haruka-san?  This is 
Minako."

"Go ahead," Haruka said, clutching at the chair where Setsuna was sitting.

"The date is March 29th, which is about four days before Mamoru-san 
told Usagi-chan he was planning to stay another year.  According to the 
article, there was a robbery at a convenience store just off campus.  
Two guys barged in and demanded all the money from the register.  At 
the time of the robbery, the people in the store were the night 
manager, who was in the back room when it happened, a clerk, a young 
couple with their kid and a study group from Harvard.  One of the 
members of the group was Mamoru-san."

"A convenience-store knock-off?!"  Haruka was incredulous.  "THAT's why 
he dumped her?"

"Don't start jumping to any conclusions," Minako warned, "because this 
gets worse.  The two thieves had guns on them.  The clerk started 
breaking down, so one of the robbers shot her.  She died instantly.  
The two guys take all cash out of the now-open register and apparently 
planned to take off with the cash and leave everyone be.  Here's where 
it starts getting messy: the baby starts crying really, really loudly, 
and the mother picks the baby up, hoping to calm her down.  One of the 
guys was really jittery, at least according to the report, and ends up 
shooting the child."

"What the--"

"Cretin."  Setsuna's mouth was set in a hard line.  "Go on, Minako-
chan."

"The mother starts crying now, which sets the guy off again.  He's 
getting ready to shoot again when someone sneaks up behind him and 
starts choking him.  The gun went off and hit the mother in the face.  
And guess who proceeds to stab the shooter with a knife the owner kept 
behind the counter?"

No one said a word.

"Well, guess."

Still nothing.

"It was Mamoru-san, baka!"

"We know," Haruka hissed into the speaker.

"Just checking," Minako replied testily.  "We called up the police 
record.  There are pictures of the victims.  And get this--the mother 
looks like Usagi-chan!  I mean, it's not an exact match, but if you 
aged her by 10 years, lightened her hair and eyes and took down the 
odango, that'd pretty much be what this woman looked like.  Ami-chan 
thinks Mamoru-san was so panicked he mentally associated the threat to 
this woman as a threat to Usagi-chan."

"So the boy in the park wasn't the first," Haruka murmured in horror.

"WHAT?!" three voices chorused.

"How did you know about that?!" Minako cried.

"What do the two of you know?"  Setsuna blanched.

"I'm flipping off the speakerphone," Haruka announced.  "Let me talk to 
Minako-chan in private."

"Haruka--"

"I'll explain everything in a minute.  Now just go."  Setsuna and 
Hotaru silently acquiesced.

"Minako-chan?"

"Tell me how you knew about this," Minako demanded.

"I will if *you* tell *me*," Haruka retorted.

"I asked first," Minako snapped.  "Hurry up."

"Usagi-chan came to us the morning it happened and told us the story," 
Haruka admitted.  "She made Michiru and me promise not to tell anyone.  
Now how about you, Minako-chan?"

"I had a dream about it.  I think Usagi-chan somehow gave her memory to 
me.  The whole thing was in slow motion, and let me tell you something, 
Haruka-san, she wanted that kid dead as much as he did."

There was shouting in the back.  "The peanut gallery's having a 
conniption," she apologized.  "I'd better go.  Meet us at the Hikawa 
shrine in half an hour, Haruka-san, and bring Setsuna-san and Hotaru-
chan."  The phone clicked off.

	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*

"So what exactly did Minako say, again?"

"I've repeated it six times already, Setsuna-san!"

"Say it a seventh."

"All right," Haruka groaned, trying to focus on the road, "she told me 
that in her dream, Usagi wanted Mamoru-san to off the kid.  But that's 
typical, considering the fact the boy was about to rape her."

In the rearview mirror of her convertible, Haruka could see Hotaru jump 
when she said the word 'rape.'

"Is something the matter, Hotaru-chan?"

"Do you really think that's why she wanted the boy dead?"

Haruka cocked her head, exchanging a look with Setsuna.  "It was a 
pretty good theory, in my opinion.  I mean, if some lowlife tried to do 
that to me--"

"That's not why she wanted him dead."

Another look passed between the two older Outers.  "Usagi-sama would 
have never wanted someone dead just because they hurt her.  That's not 
how she thinks."

"But--"

"She might want him dead for someone else's sake, though."

The two women were silent.  "Oh God," Haruka said, shaking her head.  
"You're right, Hotaru-chan . . . damn--" Setsuna glared at her, "--I 
never even considered that.  It all makes perfect sense now . . . "

Suddenly Haruka wrenched the wheel to the right, going in the opposite 
direction of the Hikawa shrine.

"Haruka!"  Setsuna scolded her crossly.  "What do you think you're 
doing?  The shrine is the *other* way!"

"I mustn't do it," Haruka spat angrily.  "I can't make her mistake, 
Setsuna . . . and she most definitely made a mistake!"

"What are you talking about?!" Setsuna yelped.  "Have you gone 
completely insane?  You turn this car around RIGHT NOW, Ten'oh Haruka, 
or I swear I'll--"

"We're here," Hotaru said coolly from the back.

Setsuna looked up.  Before her was the beautiful 'mansion by the sea' 
Haruka and Michiru lived in, now dark and dim.  The sky around it was 
cloudy and gray.  All three could feel iniquity emanate from the house.

"What are we doing here?" Setsuna asked nervously.  "What's going on?"

"I can't just ignore what's happening to Michiru-chan just because I'm 
afraid of it," Haruka realized.  "If I do, I'll end up like neko-chan 
and Mamoru-san.  I have to face her."

"Are you really sure that's a good idea?" Setsuna protested, panic 
causing her voice to waver.  "You don't know what kinds of forcing are 
manipulating her."

"Doesn't matter," Haruka gulped.  "She'd do the same for me."

Setsuna reached out to stop her, but a light tug on the cranberry skirt 
she wore stopped her.  Hotaru shook her head at Setsuna, indicating 
what both knew: nothing would stop Haruka from doing this.

"Fine," Setsuna gave in.  "Do you want us to go in with you?"

"You two should go on to the shrine," Haruka said.  "There are other 
cars I can take."

"Haruka," Setsuna groaned, "I don't have a license."

"You're telling me that after a thousand years you never learned how to 
DRIVE?!"  Haruka was incredulous.

"That's not the--"

"Just drive carefully," Haruka instructed.  "I'll see you guys later."

Setsuna reluctantly stepped into the car and started the ignition.  "At 
least henshin first," she warned sharply as the car started roaring 
away from the boyish senshi.

"Uranus crystal power, make up!"

Now she was alone.

	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*

"The infection has continued to spread," the doctor confirmed for the 
unhappy Tsukino family.  "It has ceased to respond to any of the 
antibiotics we've given her."  He continued on grimly, adding, "Usagi's 
body refuses to accept the new heart, and with her immune system gone, 
she has no defense against illness.  Her lungs are nearly full of 
fluid, and we have detected lesions on the brain.  She's had seizures 
several times in the past few days."

Ikuko held her husband's hand, silent tears dripping down her cheeks.

"I get the sense she stopped fighting a while back," the doctor 
finished.

Kenji looked stricken.

"There is nothing more we can do except help make her passing easier 
during the next two or three hours.  I'm sorry."

A wrenching cry was let forth into the night.

	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*

With slow, steady steps, Haruka approached Michiru, who was fully 
absorbed in her terrible music.

"I wanted to say I'm sorry for not supporting you," Uranus said 
quietly.  Michiru didn't even look up.  "I should have understood how 
important this is to you.  I mean . . . I still love you, Michiru-chan.  
I think we can work things out."

The music continued come from the piano.

Familiar music, Uranus suddenly realized, coming from the piano.  Well, 
the tune was the same, but in her memory the music was different . . . 
soft, tinkling . . . rather like that of a music box . . .

. . . or a locket.

Uranus gasped as she realized the song the locket had played was no 
longer the Moonlight Densetsu, but Michiru's twisted new rendition.

"It's you," Uranus choked out, unable to tear her eyes away from the 
piano.

Michiru turned around slowly, and Uranus gasped again, feeling the 
blood drain from her face.  Michiru's clear azure eyes were now a dull 
shade of indigo, blackening before her eyes.

"It's you," Uranus repeated mechanically, taking a step back.  "That 
Requiem.  I understand now!  Michiru-chan, please love, you have to 
stop writing.  It's killing--"

"Get out," Michiru rasped, voice laden with malevolence. "Get out, Uranus."

"I can't," she protested pitifully.  "I can't leave you like this.  You 
have to stop."  This must have been how Mamoru felt, Uranus realized in 
an odd moment of clarity.  Helpless and utterly lost.

With that, the last pieces of the puzzle fell into place.

"Michi-chan--" Uranus sobbed, tears streaming down as she collapsed to 
the ground.  "Oh, Gods, Michiru, my love, my life--"

"GET OUT!!!"  A frenzied burst of energy crashed into Uranus, flinging 
the door open and sending the woman out with it.

For a moment, though, she thought she saw Michiru's eyes turn back to 
their usual azure, staring pleadingly at her.  "Libera me," she 
whispered hoarsely, desperately, before reverting back to the twisted 
black-blue color.  That Michiru laughed at Uranus's pain.

"MICHIRU!"  After crash-landing on the lawn, Uranus was too terrified 
to try to confront Michiru again.  Shivering with cold and some unknown 
affliction, she stumbled away, too afraid to even go in the garage.

	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*

"Now that we have a clearer picture of Mamoru-san's motivations--"

"It's the locket!"  An exhausted Uranus collapsed onto the straw mat 
lying in the doorway of the Hikawa shrine's fire room.  Four Inners and 
two Outers were sitting around said fire, finally exchanging knowledge.  
"The locket's doing everything!"

"Calm down," Setsuna ordered, helping Makoto pick Uranus up and sit her 
down properly.  "What happened?"

Uranus took a deep breath.  "Rei-chan," she gasped, "do you remember 
the song in the locket?"

"Right!" Rei cried.  "It was changed.  Warped."

"The song was from Michiru-chan's Requiem."

For a moment, everyone was silent.  "'The song you hold in your heart 
will be your death march,'" Hotaru quoted darkly.

"What do you mean?"  Uranus turned wild eyes to her.  "You said that 
the Wraith was in Usagi's heart."

"I did say that."

"Then what does it have to do with the song?" she yelled, grasping 
neither emotion nor sanity.

"Haruka-papa," Hotaru corrected quietly, "I never said it was inside 
her chest.  You misinterpreted."

"Wait," Makoto cut in, "if it's not in Usagi-chan's heart then . . . "

"The locket," Rei's eyes grew wide.  "Remember?  When I attacked, the 
Wraith was forcing energy into the locket, which must've transferred to 
Michiru-san, Mamoru-san and Usagi-chan.  This . . . Thing has some sort 
of hold on them and it's using the locket to do its bidding."

"But what does it want?" Minako protested.  "Why would it go to such 
great lengths to execute this plan?"

"Because it needed them," Hotaru spoke up.  "It wanted to die, but It 
couldn't.  So It needed someone to die for It."

"Die?  I don't understand," a frightened, wide-eyed Uranus stuttered.

Ami fiddled with the computer she was holding.  "I may have something," 
she said slowly, looking into the fire.

Six sets of eyes were instantly on her.

"I broke the code this morning," she said quietly, "but I didn't get 
time to look over the information.  There were still some basic 
security measures I had to bypass--nothing time couldn't fix.  Then we 
got the call . . . and I had to crack the Boston Globe's archive . . . "

"So you broke into the database?" Makoto asked anxiously.

"I broke into the Silver Millennium's Criminal Files," Ami said flatly.  
"Our Wraith is an old, old friend of ours."

"Why am I not getting a good feeling about this?" Minako groaned.

"Oh, you can't feel the love in the room?" Rei said caustically.  "Get 
on with it, Ami-chan."

Ami took a deep breath.  "The records match the Silver Millennium's 
File on a woman by the name of Natsuki Mayumi, Countess of Beryl," she 
read from the screen.  "Lady Beryl, it seems, was an ordinary Earthly 
denizen before becoming the psychotic vessel of a hell-spawned demon-
goddess."

"Pleasant."  Minako made a face.

"Wait . . . are you taking about the Crazy Lady?" Uranus asked, leaning 
on Setsuna heavily.

"Crazy Lady?"

Setsuna blushed.  "During one of the rare opportunities Uranus had to 
visit me during that time period, we, ah, came up with that code name 
for her."

"Because she was insane," Uranus explained needlessly, staring vacantly 
into the distance.

"Right."  Setsuna shifted uncomfortably in her chair.  "That too."

"I beg to differ," Minako protested, raising an eyebrow.  "My general 
impression of Beryl-sama was that she was only after Endymion.  The 
sorts of things people get tangled up in for love . . . " Minako sighed 
and looked out the window, "before you know it you're gone.  I mean, 
would Mamoru-san taken life if not for Usagi?"

"Blondie's got a point, Uranus-san," Makoto chimed in.  "We're still 
missing pieces.  How did Beryl come back?  I thought that Usagi-chan 
sent her to warmer climes."

"Ah . . . not necessarily," Setsuna winced.  "There are stories of 
emotions so fervent, they leave a 'mark' behind when they leave.  A 
mono-focused consciousness.  If I had expected that Beryl-sama would be 
left behind in such a way I would have warned you long before, 
but . . . " Setsuna gazed at the empty-eyed Uranus, "I guess even 
monsters love."

"Exactly," Minako agreed forcefully, "but what is this creature doing?"

"My best guess is it's using Michiru and the Requiem to extract revenge 
on Usagi," Setsuna replied.  "This Wraith probably wants to rest.  As 
long as Usagi is alive, it can't."

"So this 'Thing' possessed Usagi-chan and Michiru-san," Makoto 
reiterated, "and now we have to figure out a way to release them?"

"At least one of them," Rei corrected her.  "If my hunch is correct, if 
we can remove the hold from one, it will weaken the monster.  Usagi and 
Michiru have created a sort of symbiotic relationship.  Whatever 
affects one will benefit or hurt the other equally."

"Interesting," Uranus murmured.

"What is?" Setsuna asked sharply.

"It just sounds too easy, that's all."

"That's because that's all there is to it," she said tersely.  "Do you 
understand now?"

"Of course," she whispered.

"Then who should we save?" Setsuna queried.  "We'll follow your lead."

"What?" Uranus looked at her wildly.  "Why me?"

"Who, in your opinion, would be easiest to exorcise the demon from?"  
Setsuna didn't answer Uranus's second question.

Uranus stilled.  Her head was spinning, throwing excuses and 
information at her from every turn.

Her love or her duty.

"Uranus?"

Duty.

"Are you listening to me?"

Love.

"Uranus, do you have an opinion or not?"

Duty.

"Uranus?"

Love.

"Uranus, are you going to answer me or not?"

*Libera me.*

"Love," she mumbled.

"What was that?"

She snapped out of her reverie.  "Michiru would be the easiest.  Neko's 
illness is driven by the music Michiru composes.  We stop Michiru, we 
buy time."

"We don't know that," Rei protested.  "This monster is turning Michiru 
into another like Itself.  It's far easier to expel a spirit from a 
body than a spirit from a mind!"

"I said," Uranus ground through clenched teeth, "we will find Michiru."

For a moment, no one moved.  Uranus sighed.  "Are we going or not?" she 
snipped harshly.

Suddenly the senshi were in action, preparing . . . no.

"Uranus-papa?"  Hotaru innocently stared up at her, holding her henshin 
stick while the others transformed.  "You're so white."

Unsurprising but disturbing nonetheless.  Uranus steadied herself on 
the sill.  "You six meet me at the house," she called as she bolted out 
the door.  "There's something I have to do first."

Well, maybe the senshi hadn't realized it (Well, Saturn may have 
suspected something, but she had said nothing to countermand Haruka's 
stipulations), but Uranus had made the hardest decision of her life 
that night.

Her Princess.  Her Love.  How could she abandon either?

One was her reason to breathe, the other her reason to live.  She never 
imagined it would come to this, that she would be forced to choose.  
Mamoru should have been there, protecting and caring for Usagi, so that 
she could take care of *her* love, or at least what was left of her.

That was the reason why she was climbing up the fire ladder that night, 
scaling the apartment complex at a ferocious rate.  So that she 
wouldn't have to feel so bad for being selfish.

Tonight there would be no fear.

Tonight there would be no hesitation.

Only action.

Only suffering.

And no one knew where it would take the senshi.

	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*

Chiba Mamoru was tired.

He was tired of being locked in his despair, tired of waiting for the 
last vestiges of his sanity and humanity to wing away with Usagi.  
Tired of waiting for the end.

Long ago, before he had met Usagi, he had been 'gifted' a bottle by a 
cruel classmate, a bottle that Mamoru had saved for an occasion like 
this.  Somehow, he had never shaken away his doubts and his fears, that 
he truly was a monster, that Usagi would someday realize this and leave 
him.

The childproof seal cracked open.

His love.  His addiction, his most exquisite pleasure.  Since the 
Harvard incident he had reveled, though terrified of himself all the 
while, in the thought of her, his, and only his, for all time.  His 
obsession.  His object of pure, shameless lust.  And yet he wondered if 
it was not that she was his, but that he was hers.  She could live 
without him, whereas he, he . . .

He removed the little cotton ball from the top.

It was his duty to do this, after all.  He was her protector, and where 
she was going she would need all the protection she could get.  Long 
ago, he had promised himself that wherever she went, he would follow 
her.  He had broken that promise too many times.  Now was the time to 
live up to it.

One, two, three, four . . . how many now?

Taking a gulp of sake, he felt . . . happy.  Warm.  After all, she was 
going to die, and at least now he would be able to go with her.  She 
would never be alone, and no one would ever hurt her again.  Not as 
long as he followed her.

The bottle dropped to the ground.

He smiled in elation.

	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*

When Uranus leapt into the shadowy apartment, she never expected to see 
Mamoru actually out of bed and sitting on the couch, playing dumbly 
with a rose in his hands.  He showed no sign that he realized Haruka 
was there.

"Mamoru-san."

He finally looked up.  "Yes, Uranus-san?" he asked, smiling at her.

Uranus cocked her head in confusion.  "Are you all right?"

"As fine as I'll ever be."

"That's nice, considering your beloved is dying alone in a blank white 
hospital room attached to about sixty machines."

He stopped messing with the rose and looked down shamefully.  Uranus 
took this as a sign she had affected him.

"Shouldn't you be there with her?"

Nothing at all.

"Well, shouldn't you?"

Nothing again.

"SHOULDN'T YOU?!"

"She told me she didn't want to see me again," he whispered in a 
tortured baritone.  "She said to stay away."

"And the one time you actually LISTEN to her..."

Tears fell.  "You don't understand," he muttered, trying to keep his 
voice controlled.  He took a long draft of sake.

"Make me, then."

Mamoru turned vacant, aimless eyes in her direction, unable to focus on 
her properly.  "Have you ever," he whispered hoarsely, inundated with 
emotion, "loved someone so much that it made your lungs cease to 
function?  That merely touching your beloved's skin was so thrilling 
you thought the shock of it would kill you?  That you were so 
desperate, so utterly worshipful of this other human being, so reliant 
upon them for your entire sense of self that a mere passing notion of 
losing that someone could make you psychically ill?"

She hadn't thought about it until now, but something bubbled up from 
deep inside her and confirmed that she indeed felt these things for 
Michiru.

"And have you ever felt that in order to protect that love and life, 
you would gladly destroy whole Universes for one small woman?"

Now she realized.

"It's attached to you too, isn't it?"

"What?"  He blinked uncertainly, trying to comprehend.

"The demon . . . it's inside your heart too," Uranus whispered.  "Of 
course it is. Usagi's heart is your heart, just as yours is hers.  Two 
as one."

"I don't . . . "

"Mamoru-san," Uranus explained as if to a small child, "the demon wants 
you to kill yourself so it can further its hold on Usagi-chan.  You 
can't do this, Mamoru-san.  If you do, the Wraith will win."

Mamoru stilled completely, staring into space.

"But it's already too late, isn't it?" she cried softly.  "Too late for 
you. You're dead.  How could you help your love now?  Well I charge you 
with this, Mamoru-san: how could you NOT?!"

He turned, slowly, and Uranus bored her eyes into his.  The harsh light 
started to ebb, thankfully; now maybe she could reason with him.

"How can you sit here and let her slip away?" she asked in disbelief.  
"How?  Maybe you've patted yourself on the back for your courage, 
Mamoru-san, but in the end you are nothing but a coward!  Love is not 
about wasting away!  It's about fighting, about being willing to 
suffer, about saying the words AND THEN LIVING UP TO THEM!!!" she was 
screaming, her lungs burning as she gulped in oxygen.

"And it's SCARY!" she yelled, continuing when her breath returned.  
"It's terrifying to know that someone has that much power of you, that 
they can cause you so much pain, but it's worth it, Mamoru-san, oh God, 
it's worth it a thousand times over.  Love is all we have to hold onto.  
It's about being willing to burn so for a couple moments we're happy!  
Because you know what we are doing in those few moments?  LIVING.  
We're ALIVE.  I dare you to say that surrounding yourself with books or 
pills or even racecars could make us alive."

Uranus took in a deep, shuddering breath.  The words, locked inside her 
and ignored for so long, suddenly made perfect sense to her.  Her 
spinning world started to slow, and she found something to hold onto, 
something worth fighting for again.  The love of the weak was 
formidable.  The love of the strong was invincible.

It wasn't selfish; it was self-preservation.  So went the way of the 
world.

"I hope you think about what I said," she warned sharply.  "Now if 
you'll excuse me, my lover has been possessed by a screaming Wraith and 
unlike you, I actually have some balls, metaphorically speaking."

And then she was gone.

The alcohol and the pills were making him sleepy, but somehow Uranus's 
words had pierced his hide.  He was warm, and not just from the sake.  
For the first time in a long while, he felt . . . strong.  In control.  
He straightened and pulled out a rose.

As Tuxedo Kamen, the pills' effect on his system slowed.  Now he had 
enough time to get to the hospital and try to do something.  What that 
was, he didn't know, but he sensed the battle had not yet begun.

For better or for worse, he would fight the fight.

	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*

"What took you so long?" Pluto asked, staring at the swirling clouds 
above.

"Unfinished business."

"I can't imagine what could be so important right now," Jupiter 
remarked, blowing away a stray hair.

"I had to give a little pep talk."

Saturn broke into a wide smile.

"Whatever."  Mercury was typing furiously into her system.  "We need to 
secure the area in case this gets ugly," she announced.  "The Inners 
and I can use our Planet power to do that.  Are you three ready?"

"Check."

"Check."

"What, no Wraith-bashing for us?"

"Jupiter," Mercury warned, "time is of the essence."

"What will we do?" Uranus asked hesitantly, clenching a fist.

"You three will go inside."

	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*

Gods, how tiny and fragile she seemed attached to those damned 
machines!

Tuxedo Kamen searched around warily, looking for Usagi's family or 
anyone else in the way.  By an odd coincidence, there were none.  He 
did not know they were currently being informed that their daughter 
would take her last breath within a few hours.

He knew that anyways.  Even with the machine, her struggle to breathe 
was so demanding there was no way a body that weak could take such 
punishment for long.  A few spare tears dropped from his eyes.  He 
approached, quietly brushing the bangs out of her half-glazed eyes.

"Usa-ko," he whispered gently, almost reverently.  "If I had it all to 
do over again I would do so many things differently . . . but I can't.  
I *can't*, Usa-ko. All I can ask now is that you give me the chance to 
change.  Don't leave me here with my regrets."  His tears sloshed onto 
her marble face.

As he let out a choked sob, his eyes focused upon the glittering object 
on the countertop.  The locket.

As if possessed, his hand reached out to touch the gleaming black stone 
as it played its haunting song.

	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*

She led.

Saturn and Pluto flanked her, good backup if it should come to that.  
Was this really her home?  It looked so black, so grim.  Like a tier of 
Hell rather than a seaside cottage.

At its nexus, hovering in the air, was and emaciated, shadowy form with 
cobwebs of aqua trailing down her back.  The eyes were nearly white and 
glassy, frightening in their inhumanity.  She swirled among intense 
energy, lost in the ecstasy as the Wraith's power composed for her.

Then a burst shot forth.  Electric heat and light surrounded Uranus but 
somehow she managed to remain standing.  Looking back painfully, she 
saw her comrades, twin victims, slumped against the wall.  Glaive and 
Orb alike were nowhere to be found.

But she had always known this was her battle.  How kind of the Wraith 
to acknowledge that.

She wiped away a bead of sweat and looked up.

Michiru locked eyes with her and curled up her lips.

	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*

Tuxedo Kamen felt black power swirl and electrify around him, sucking 
him into the dark intrigue of the locket.  Unholy power surged through 
but he held on, desperate to save Usagi yet.  There was time, he kept 
reminding himself, but it was too valuable to spend in oblivion.  
Precious time such as this could not be wasted on fainting.

When he opened his eyes the area was black save a dim light in the 
distance.  Slowly his eyes adjusted and he made out a stone staircase.  
The dim light was getting stronger as it approached from the other 
direction.  Slowly he realized it was a torch.  Someone was here.

Once the figure grew near, he gasped in recognition.  She, on the other 
hand, simply smiled and opened her mouth.

	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*

"I've been waiting for you."

	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*

Comments, complaints, criticisms can go to tennyo@attbi.com, but 
flamers will be treated with appropriate mocking condescension.  Look 
forward to hearing from you!